The Guillotine Massacre
by Bella Takashi
Summary: This story has nothing to do with AIR the game. It has to do with a young teenage boy who is condemed to death by the NATIONAL RAZOR. FRENCH REVOLUTION.


Jade Shelby

Jade Shelby

Final Exam: Short Story

English

6/3/08

**The Guillotine Massacre**

In the heart of Salem, Massachusetts, I was kept; the small unfed body of a teenage boy, sitting alone in a dark, muggy, jail cell. They held me hostage, for three months. I had a family, two brothers, a mother, a father; a girl friend. I was a prisoner. I was their prey. They were the hunters. I am held in this prison cell, away from the entire world, hidden from all civilization, all humans. This world has no love for a teenage boy like me. This world is not like it used to be. I live on planet Earth, and this is my story. I am Rajah, and I am a prisoner.

As I sit in this jail cell, I think of my past. My family, my girl friend; my life. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. My mother was a tall slender woman, who was always thinking of others. I can remember the day that they crucified her like it was yesterday. They had taken her from the streets, she was shopping in the markets, and she was alone. One of them took her by surprise, grabbed her at the waist and dragged her into a dark alley. She screamed and yelled, kicked and scratched, gnawed and clawed; but it was no good. It was like the other shoppers didn't know that she was there. No one called for help. No one heard.

One of them took her and shook her as he held her hostage in the dark. He was draped in a long black cloak, and had covered his face in case she was to live and tell the authorities. Soon she was teeth show in the small rays of sun light that snuck through the small cracks in the cover, over head. They were long, sharp, and glistening in the sunlight. My mother made her last effort to run and escape, but it was no use. That creature killed my mother in the five seconds that he had left in the market place. Five seconds to slash, gnaw, and spill, everything that my mother had. The authorities found her arm, resting in her basket of bread in the market place square. She was no more, her blood was spilled and I wasn't going to let this happen to anyone else of my family.

I, Rajah the teenage boy that I am, made a promise when I saw the remains of my mother. My promise was to place the most deadly revenge on this creature and make sure it hurt him just as much as it hurt me and my family. I traveled around the state, in search for my mother's killer. There were obvious tracks that it had left behind it. Like severed heads, limbs, and spilt blood. I took up the skill of tracing, and tracking. I traced the blood spills, and tracked footprints with ease and ended up here.

Rajah had done it again! He had gotten himself into more trouble than he had bargained for. Jail. This is not the first place I thought I would end up. Everyday the creatures, talk outside of my jail cell. They talked about how they were going to kill me. Strategizing against me. But they didn't know that I was ready to fight them. My mother's death would be avenged. But I was weak; I had lost all my strength, when they had whipped me. Day in day out they attempted to kill every cell in my body.

Today, June 3, 2008 the enemy walked into my jail cell and tied my hands together. I was being moved. They took me to the courtyard and blind folded my eyes. They pushed and pulled me towards the meeting place. They removed my blind fold and replaced it with a potato sack. They tied my hands. I struggled against their pull and force. I didn't know what was happening. I was laid down and placed under something that was being sharpened. It sounded like an old contraption that, caused thousands of people to die on first encounter. It was the main source of the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution. It was; The Guillotine.

I tried so hard to get out. They beat me, they cranked the mechanism. In on flash, I couldn't think, I twitched with pain. I was forgetting everything. My life had reached its end, just like my mothers. I had fought for what I believed in, and I had failed. Or did I? This was the end of my road, but the beginning of my journey. It was the beginning of the best and worst of times.


End file.
